


Ravished

by Clockwork



Series: Statements [5]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Audio drama, Body Horror, Body Modification, M/M, Monsters in love, Podcast, Post Series, Romance, the magnus institute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2019-05-05 22:46:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14628618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clockwork/pseuds/Clockwork
Summary: Martin and Tim as Head Archivist and Running the Magnus Institute, and carrying on in a most unprofessional way.A sequel to Ravishing





	Ravished

Martin knew that he was lucky. At least compared to some. When Jon had taken over the job of Head Archivist, he hadn’t a clue of what he was actually agreeing to. From all he could learn, Gertrude at least had a clue. Martin though, he knew. 

He knew what it would truly included when one took on that title. He knew the things he would face, and how close death would constantly loom like a deadly razor sharp blade hanging over his head. He also knew that, in the end, he wasn’t going to live beyond this position. One day something would get to him, it just depended on how long that took.

There was a time when Martin would have feared those things, but now he knew the truth. He was neck deep in whatever this all was, and he had been since the day he had smiled nervously at Elias and gladly accepted the job. There was no sense in fearing his death or how it would happen. All he could do is all he can for the Beholding and fight as hard as possible for their “side” of things.

Even if he was never sure their side was right or wrong. It just was, and they were part of it, and that was all that mattered. 

Which wasn’t true, and Martin knew it. Sitting there at his desk, surrounded by papers and that bucket of bolts recorded that Jon loved - and that still bore the various dents and scratches of its falls - Martin knew there was so much more that he would fight for. Raising his gaze, staring as if he could see beyond the walls, could see through the wards that protected the Archive. As if he could see Tim sitting at his desk, surrounded by artifacts and sigils, his very being warded openly in ways that Elias Bouchard had always hidden.

Martin smiled thinking about that, about how Tim looked in his suit, broad and tall and foreboding to nearly everyone that stepped through the door. Everyone but Martin, that is. More than anyone else, Martin knew just how deadly Tim Stoker was. He knew the man when he began at the Magnus Institute, and he had witness most of the changes as they happened. Fairly intimately as it were, depending on when they had happened. From the worms that had borrowed into his skin, to being stalked in the tunnels, and then as he had taken the oath that bound him as the soul of the Institute when the real changes began. Martin had been there for it all, and without a single chance for them to leave the Institute and run, he was glad that he was there with Tim at his side to get him through it all.

Quite literally at his side as Tim’s hand came to rest on Martin’s shoulder.

Jumping nearly a foot, Martin shrieked as he scurried up and out of his seat, hand clutching at his chest even as his brain processes what just happened.

“Timothy Stoker! What have I told you about sneaking up on me like that?”

“I believe you’ve told me that it might well the death of you, but we both know that’s not going to happen. Not now. Not yet. Not because of me.” 

Smirking, Tim took a step closer that sent a warmth flushing through Martin. When most saw that smile, they backed away. Away from a mouth that seemed too large, that held too many teeth that were just a bit rounder and more pointed than they should be. Most though hadn’t been there when the changes began, long before Tim ever took over the job of running the Institute. Watching as tiny bits of his soul were slowly taken, mutated, crafted as they were needed even as he thought he still retained his humanity. At least for a time.

Martin had seen it in Tim’s eyes though, in how he carried himself, and in that smile. When he stood there in his suit, the teeth were the most obvious part of him that was not human, not anymore. Much of that was because of the carefully tailored suit, and the too dark to function in the dimness of the Institute sunglasses. 

The suit hid his skin, marked now with scars from the various minions they’ve run into throughout the years. Some had left him in the hospital for weeks, others had nearly taken his life. Now they were a road map of everything they had been through. The suit though managed to nearly hide the pallor of his skin, mostly through the deep red undertones that ran through the black fabric. Nearly but not quite. 

It didn’t entirely hide the blueish gray hue of his hands, seeping up along his neck to his jawline. It hadn’t entirely covered his face, not yet, but with time it would. Not that it was solid. Martin knew each and every line where things varied, darker and lighter as the color ebbed and flowed over his body. Martin liked his back the best, where the colors were rich and swirling, an ocean that spoke of the past and how much had tried to kill Tim and had failed. 

“Martin? Are you with me?”

The Archivist startled, wide eyed and stunned. “Hmmm? What?”

“You were thinking about my back again, weren’t you?”

Even as he asked, he cheated though as he reached up and removed his glasses.

Very few ever saw Tim’s eyes. Not anymore. Revealing them at work was entirely unfair. The whites of his eyes were dark now, blue and if not for the white iris they would seem black rather than the dark, rich navy blue that was their true color. His pupils were a much brighter blue, nearly the color of the sky. Martin wondered if it was the colors of the Beholding, or if it spoke of the sky sharing the truth. There was nowhere to hide where the Beholding couldn’t see. They had eyes everywhere, after all. And what those eyes saw was shared with Tim through those odd blue eyes.

“Well, I was. Now…” Martin knew it was the wrong place and time, but he couldn’t help himself as he shifted forward until he was pressing himself against Tim’s form. Feeling the coolness of his skin beneath, the solid, almost too heavy for even the tall, broad form. Martin slipped his arms around Tim, pressing his cheek to Tim’s chest. “Now I’m thinking about when you look down at me like that.”

There was a time when Martin cared if it was Tim or the Beholding that drew him in like that but he’d recently come to a conclusion. He didn’t care. So long as it was Tim and himself, he didn’t care. If he didn’t care about the skin, and the teeth, why the eyes? Why care who was watching, or what was being seen in that time. 

He was the Head Archivist, after all, a part of the Beholding, and a warrior in this battle. He was, in a way, Tim’s knight, and so long as he wasn’t in this alone, he didn’t care who else was involved.

Tim sighed, one hand tracing long nails along Martin’s shoulder and then against the curve of his jaw as he lifted the Archivist’s head to meet his gaze.

“I would love to continue this here and now, but sadly I came because you’re late for a meeting. Raynor’s latest acolyte will be here soon along with whoever the Stranger is sending. We promised to oversee a conversation about issues with the church. Remember?”

Martin blinked at that for several minutes. “I…. do?” Maybe. Maybe he did. Maybe not. “Ummmm…” Stepping back, he straightened his jacket which did little for the wrinkles and offered a shy smile. “Right. With an acolyte. So right….” he said, peeling off his jacket. “Now, where is my fireproof jacket? Hmmm, where did I put it?”

Turning about, scurrying around the room. Tim cleared his throat.

Martin turned and saw that jacket dangling from Tim’s crooked finger. “You know this really won’t help you, right?”

“I know it makes me feel better,” he said, storming over and jerking the jacket gone. “Why did we make this neutral ground?”

“Because we watch and record. We aren’t part of either side of this battle. We just record it for the next Archivist. This really is neutral ground, Martin. Besides, we are strongest here, and I won’t put either of us in a weak position. Did you really want to go to the church and the darkness there?”

Martin shuddered. “Fine. Fine. Whatever. You owe me dinner with wine after this,” he pointed out, heading for the door. “And a massage.”

“If by massage you mean sex until you pass out? Already planned on it,” he said, following Martin out with a chuckle.


End file.
